Star Trek: Rogue One
by fantasticly-anonymous
Summary: What happens when the Enterprise shows up after the battle at Scarif? With the planet moments from destruction, will Captain James T. Kirk and crew change the fate of the previously doomed Rogue One crew? A fix it Fic and a bit of a 'what happens when you put these people together in a flying saucer' character exploration.
1. Scarif Scarred

**This idea came to me as a cracky little idea and somehow ballooned into its own story. I blame my overactive imagination.**  
 **Hope y'all enjoy!**

"Stardate, Mr. Spock?" Asked the yellow shirted captain sitting in his chair at the center of a banged up Enterprise bridge.

"Inconclusive, Captain," came the chief science officer's answer.

"Damn it, Spock; where the hell **are** we?" Demanded Dr. McCoy. On deck assessing the bridge crew for injuries.

"Captain, none of these constellations are recognized by our central database," spoke up a shaken Sulu. Fingers flitting over a navigation station that was giving off intermittent puffs of white smoke.

"How is that possible?" Kirk asked with a shake of his frazzled head. A hand rubbing across his eyes as he tried to stave off an oncoming time travel headache. "Spock," he directed toward his first officer's station, "what _does_ the chrono reader say?"

"There is a single message. Scrolling from the bottom of the readout to the top in a continuous loop. It reads:" Spock paused before looking across to his captain's expectant face, "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away."

The entire bridge went quiet. Even Scotty and Uhura, moments ago a flurry of movement as they worked together to try and patch up the communication station's fried relays, were given pause by the ominous statement.

They had no idea when, nor _where_ they were. That was never a good place to end an accidental time jump.

"Captain," Spock started, in a tone which had Kirk sitting suddenly ramrod straight in his chair. "Scanners indicate that the planet nearest our current standing is caught in the process of what appears to be a world ending event. Shall we investigate?"

With barely a moment's pause, Kirk nodded. "Maximum thrusters, Sulu. Let's get this thing in our sights."

"On it. Captain," Sulu said. Distracted for a moment by a particularly opaque belch of smoke from his station.

"Uhura, Scotty, how's the-"

"We're goin' fast as we can, Captain. There are a **lot** of fried relays over here!" Scotty said, ending in a curse as a little zapping noise sounded through the bridge.  
Uhura stepping in when the head of engineering paused to shake the tingling out of his poor hand.

"Alright. But as soon as communications are back up-"

"Back on line, Captain," Uhura snapped off with a hand to her earpiece. Concentrating on something far removed from the singed electronics she'd just been helping with.

"At least incoming is," amended Scotty, flipping a few switches which appeared to do absolutely nothing.

"There are people down there! Calling for help. But I'm not intercepting any responses. It sounds as if no one's coming for them."

"Lieutenant Uhura is correct, Captain. There is evidence of a craft of some sort having left here from a stable orbit only a short while ago," Spock spoke up. Eyes glued to his readout as data came through faster than most humans could hope to process it.  
"I have readings of dozens, potentially over one hundred, humanoid life forms concentrated around one large complex. Very near the cataclysm's epicenter," he ended. Face twitching in his captain's direction for only the split second it took him to confirm Kirk had indeed heard.

"They were just fired upon. The test for a new super weapon that destroys planets with the push of a button," Uhura reported, her look of concentration speckled with dread.

"Is it a singularity? Spock?" Kirk asked of the science station. Knowing if the answer was yes, that it might be prudent, perhaps even _advisable_ , for him to assign a different officer to the post. No matter the Vulcan's cool, collected outer image.

"Negative, Captain. The planetoid appears to have been hit with a destructive force so powerful that the entire surface will soon be disrupted. Followed closely by the extinction of all life, then, with nothing stable to contain it, of the planet's core itself."

Kirk nodded. At once aware that many a crew member would think it a mercy for someone who'd lived through a similar event to not have to watch such a fate befall yet another inhabited world, and yet somehow knowing that if he benched his first officer, he wasn't going to get thanked for it.  
Planetary destruction be damned, Spock was a student of science just as he was a child of Vulcan, and put together, that made him one of the most impassive bastards to ever walk the halls of a Startleet vessel.  
"Sulu, bring us within range."

Only a tense dozen or so seconds and the little planet was on their view screen. The cataclysm's epicenter an unmistakable mark of death on the otherwise pristine ball of life, so massive as to be visible to the naked eye.

Every head turned as the sudden, jarring sound of voices pleading for help filtered through the bridge speakers of a barely operational communication array.

With a snap to the movement, Uhura sent her hands flitting across her station to right the malfunction, a tight set to her jaw as the hysterical voices cut off.  
"These people are begging for their lives, Captain," Uhura whispered. Perhaps to fill the following, resounding silence.

The bridge crew all looked to their captain. Bodies tense as they waited for orders.

"Let's get those people on board. Mr. Scott, Chekhov, make it happen."

"Aye aye, Captain."

"Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir," came the twin replies as the two began coordinating with the transport departments through the once again functional ship wide communication relay.

"Alright. Bones, get triage to all transport pads on the double and have all medbays on standby to handle an influx of wounded and-,"

"Already on it." At the surprised raise of captainly eyebrows, the doctor put his hands on his hips. "You think I don't know my job?" Then with a scoff, McCoy was off. Turbo lift whirring as it sped him into the bowels of their ship.

"Okay," Kirk said, tearing his perplexed gaze from the lift doors. Hoping things went smoothly for his head of medical. "Any update on the status of the planet?"

"It has only a finite time left before it's core will be effected. After which, we must execute a hasty retreat if we are to avoid our ship sustaining incalculable-"

"Noted, Mr. Spock. Mr. Scott?" Kirk asked, looking from science to find the red shirted Scotsman.

"Uh, it's gonna take a moment to lock on to all those targets, Captain," Scotty informed, bent over a console near the navigation station.

"We already have a number of signatures ready for beam up, Keptain," informed Chekov. "Only because they're not moving. Probably injured in the initial-"

"Beam them up. Get the rest as we establish locks," Kirk said. "And let's pray Bones has his triage in place."

"He does," confirmed Uhura. "Standby just confirmed."

"In that case, let's get this party started and on the road ASAP."

To the chorus of a resounding, "Aye aye, Captain," Kirk rubbed at his eyes once more and began wondering what they were going to do with their new influx of refugees.  
And how in God's name they were going to get themselves home _this_ time.

 **Heehee. So, the concept got ya hooked? I sure hope so, 'cause I have a second chapter waiting in the wing!**  
 **Either way, feel free to drop a line and plain lemme know what ya think!**


	2. Phew

**Quick shout out to anyone who read, subscribed or favorited, and a special thank you to the users Carolinefdq, Commander Karr, and SupergodzillaSailorCosmos who left bolstering comments! Thanks so much y'all!**

 **Jim Kirk does well under the stresses of being captain of a Starfleet vessel. Even when one of those stressors is an inhabited planet literally dying off the port bow.**

A tense few minutes filled with trying to get the bridge up and functioning again, Mr. Scott and Chekov scrambling to enact the pinpoint and rescue of nearly one hundred people in dire need, and navigation hightailing them away from a planet on the verge of self destruction, and Kirk had had just about enough for one day.

"Status on our new guests, Bones?" Kirk asked through his captain chair's comm link to medical. Glad his exhaustion wasn't as obvious as it could have been.

"All on board and being processed through med bay and into either bunked guest quarters —with a security detail for good measure— or straight to holding cells. In the case of the more... _violent_ ones."

"Any problems when they came aboard?" Kirk asked. Trying not to sound worried.

"Not really. The majority of them _were_ heavily armed, with **lazer** weapons, but once they realized we'd saved their skins, those guns were on the ground and their hands in the air." McCoy chuckled, before adding, "Maybe you can pull the video log later. Pretty funny picture."

"Guess I'll have to," Kirk agreed, figuring the captain ought to know exactly what was going down in his ship anyway. "How're the guests that came in the first volley? They armed with 'lazer weapons' too?"

"...No. Outfits didn't match anybody else who came through later either. Seem to be a separate group. All badly injured and in surgery as we speak. Speaking of which: I'll talk to ya later, Jim. I'm sorta busy helpin' somebody regrow a good deal of skin right now. Poor schmuck looks like he got caught up in a _grenade_ blast."

And with that the connection was switched off from medical's side. Probably one of the assistings realized Bones would just keep up the dialog if they didn't remove the temptation themselves.

Bones had a _good_ staff backing him up. Or, was _he_ backing **them** up?

Eh, semantics, Kirk thought as he put his attention back to the repairs still taking place at most stations of the Enterprise bridge.  
Sulu's navigational unit had finally stopped its unapproved smoking, Chekov's cracked display had been made safe for use by a thin bead of clear polymer from a fancy tube, and communications was back up to seventy-five percent functionality.

Not too shabby for a crew who'd just been slung through a time warp and spit out in a different **galaxy**. If James T. Kirk said so himself.

"Sulu, how close are we to having... bearings?"

"Uh, we're working out some rudimentaries, Captain, but it's going to take some time before we can establish anything substantial. Let alone _helpful_ ," the navigator added under his breath. Causing Kirk's mouth to twitch up at the corners.

They were so screwed.

With a hearty shake of the head, Kirk figured there was nothing for it but to keep up the good work and stick it out till it all became beta shift's problem and he could get himself some high quality shut eye.  
Too bad all the repairs and excitement would be finished with by then. Beta shift never got any of the glory. Or the fun.

Hopefully the annoying throbbing in his head would be gone by then as well.

 **Hint: Next chapter's gonna be longer! ;D**


	3. Spock's Side

**A planet just exploded. Was Spock as 'Vulcan' in the face of that as his Captain thought? Or were Jim's concerns over the first officer's emotional well being well founded after all?**

On the other side of the Enterprise bridge, a Vulcan too fought to fend off a pressure in his head. A pressure he'd long come to think of as his human half attempting to break through his carefully constructed mental barriers and foist needless and messy... emotion into his conscious thinking.  
A concept Spock was no proponent of, considering the negative consequences that accompanied the few times in his life that his barriers had not been enough to keep his tenacious human sentimentalities at bay.

With a quick glance spared to the bridge's center seat, Spock banished the unwanted years old sense memory of his mind and body absolutely _scintillating_ with a bone deep rage, fingers around his captain's throat, and went back to scanning the data readout from his own station.  
That particular incident he considered his least proud. As a Vulcan, as an officer of Starfleet, and as a friend. He had failed on all fronts in one fell swoop and even all this time later, stranded in an unknown galaxy, in an unknown time, options unsure, he fought to keep his composure at the memory.

The memory that had been dredged up by his human side at the unexpected sight of the planet they had come out of their accidental time jump nearest... exploding.  
Literally.

All that remained of the planet was an unnavigable debris field in their rear view and the few score of refugee Mr. Scott and Chekov had been able to have rescued.

Spock had been amazed that no one had noticed his uncharacteristic gape at the sight of an entire planet **gone** in a single, cosmic magnitude explosion. One his station was attempting to calculate the megaton power of. One it would _still_ be attempting to calculate the power of when alpha shift came to a much anticipated end and he was free to abscond to his private quarters for a spell of much needed privacy and meditation.

His calm was threatened, he could _feel_ it and he hadn't been expecting it. The incident had after all been dissimilar enough to the destruction of his home planet that Spock had been expecting a dispassionate, scientific approach would be maintained with ease. But, the explosion broadcast across the viewscreen had reminded his... less logical side of something his _analytical_ side did not enjoy inspecting. Even during meditation.

At his station, Spock closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing for a moment. Just long enough to push back against the rising tide of unpleasantness the loss of yet another planet, right before his eyes, was threatening to ruin his reputation of professionalism with.

The clock ticked to beta shift not a moment too soon and Spock was across the bridge and in the turbo lift before another soul had so much as noticed it was time for dinner.  
He only hoped his beta shift science devision counterpart did not notice the faint dents he had inadvertently bestowed upon their station's metal edge, where he hadn't realized he was gripping it in... apprehension as the entire bridge crew had watched a planet reduced to little more than another tragedy chronicled in their ship's logs.

He doubted very much that anyone who might happen to notice would bring it to anyone else's attention, seeing as the dents did not impact the functionality of the station, but he would still see to it that they were seen to. At his earliest convenience.

In the meantime, Spock thought as he entered his private quarters, he had an unsettled half human, half Vulcan mind to see to.

XXXxxxXXX

If Spock had had it his way, he would not have been disturbed until it was time for his next shift, but instead, the voice of Dr. McCoy ringing through his quarters pulled him from an exceptionally productive mental space. Inconvenient to say the least.

"Paging Mr. Spock! Spock, you are obviously in there and I have the place surrounded! Spock, your room tells me you **are** in there; _please_ confirm."

Finally. A _sensicle_ statement to which Spock could deign a response.  
"Yes, Doctor, I am indeed here."

"Good Lord, it's like raising the dead with you," came the disgruntled response through the speaker by the door.

"Apologies, Doctor. I was... meditating."

"Huh. Must be somethin' _to_ that meditation business. I been tryin' to raise you for the last, oh, five minutes."

"You have been attempting to raise me for five minutes?" Asked Spock with no small measure of disbelief.

"Give or take," McCoy confirmed. "Off and on too, but yeah. Next I was gonna start whistlin' Dixie," the Doctor added in a semiserious tone. "Then I was gonna send someone over there to make sure your room wasn't lying to my-"

"Doctor, is there a reason for this call?" Spock prompted. Not necessarily pleased with having been interrupted, but interested in knowing the reason for it none the less.

"Yeah, and it can't wait. Meet me in my office. I'll tell ya when you get here." Followed by a small click as the line went dead.

Feeling refreshed despite the unanticipated interruption, Spock stood and made for his door. _Not_ grumbling under his breath about a certain doctor as he hit the hallway and began the walk to the Enterprise's main medbay.

 **Sorry it turned out a tiny bit less longer than I'd thought it would. Please take heart in the knowledge that I will do my best to have the next chapter out soon! Hope y'all enjoy your weekends!**

 **Also: Next chapter will directly concern members of our favorite Star Wars crew!**


	4. Our New Guest

**Hi y'all! Just wanted to give a quick shoutout to all the lovely folks who've read, followed, and favorited! Thanks a ton for the support!  
I also wanted to specially thank SupergodzillaSailorCosmos, 1968, and Commander Karr for taking the time to leave wonderful words of encouragement! It really makes my day to see them in the ol' inbox! :D And now, without further ado:**

 **Spock arrives at medbay and his good 'friend' McCoy talks his ears off.**

"Ah, Spock, there you are," McCoy said in a tone the man rarely used in _any_ one's company. Sounding almost **happy** as he stood from his desk to greet the Vulcan.

"Yes, I am here as per your _request_ , Doctor. You indicated it was of utmost import-"

"Yes, yes I did, didn't I?" The medical professional said. At the same time coming close at a rapid rate and moving an arm in a way that had Spock tensing. At the last moment though, McCoy aborted his thoughtless gesture and refrained from putting his arm around the science officer's shoulders in an overtly intimate gesture Spock had seen him use to ensnare their captain. _Many_ a time.  
"I got a patient here who could use an escort to his new quarters."

"And you thought the first officer of this ship the prudent choice?" Spock asked. Befuddled by McCoy's strange logic. If he had indeed employed any.

Turning to walk him through to the med bay proper, the head doctor paused and this time _did_ initiate physical contact. Albeit, in the form of a pat on one shoulder. Far more acceptable.  
"Yes. You see, you wouldn't guess it lookin' at this fella, but his reflexes are _far_ beyond the baseline and he's not a big guy, but his muscle density readings say he'd hit like one."

"Hence, a Vulcan for an escort?"

"Good. You're catching on," McCoy confirmed with a wry nod. Starting off for the ward again.

"Why not assign a security detail?" Spock asked, causing McCoy to pause and stay where he was once more.

"I've spoken with as many of our new guests as possible as well as performed and overseen several surgeries, and out of all of those people, _this_ one seems at once the most benevolent **yet** the most dangerous." The doctor went on when Spock gave him a questioning look. "If he were from our universe," he said in a hushed voice, "I'd bet he knew Tal-Shaya. _Knew_ it, was **capable** of it, but wouldn't use it."

"You fear him?"

"What? No, you're missing the point-" McCoy bit off his words and started over. "No, I don't 'fear' him. I actually think he's a man of peace, a monk or some such. But I also think you're the only one on this ship that could stop him without a weapon."

"Your confidence in my abilities is not misplaced-"

"Is _that_ how you Vulcan's take a compliment?"

"-but are you sure your suspicion of 'our new guest's' _isn't_?" Spock asked. An eyebrow raising at the interruption.

"Let's hope we don't need to find out," McCoy said. Patting Spock on the shoulder for a second time before leading them through to the part of med bay lined with biobeds.

"Chirrut here, is ready for some R&R, so I've assigned him a guest quarter and I was hoping you wouldn't mind showing him to it," the chief of medical needlessly explained for a second time as they approached a biobed which had both a patient laying in it, and a patient sitting on the next bed over and facing it. Or, perhaps, facing the man laying _in_ it.

"If possible, we would like a private, shared birthing, please," the one sitting on the second biobed requested. Not turning to face them as he did.

"I heard you the first time and I already said that it weren't no problem at all," McCoy said. Dipping further into his native Earth accent towards the end of his statement. A phenomenon which generally occurred either when the man was off duty or else was particularly annoyed.

"Oh yes! I remember that now," their 'new guest' said, in a way which seemed to indicate that he'd never forgotten to begin with.

"Well, Spock here's ready to show it to ya, so if yer ready?" McCoy prompted. Sounding as if he sincerely hoped the answer was 'yes'.

"Might an old man have his walking stick back?" The one making McCoy's blood pressure visibly rise asked in an innocent way.

"Chirrut, I hate to break it to ya, but you're not _that_ old," McCoy said. In a matter of fact way. "But I'll ask our security team about when you can have it back. It's being inspected along with all the other weapons brought on board during the evacuation."

"Ah. Yes. The evacuation. Have I thanked you for the rescue and astounding medical care, Dr. McCoy?"

"Yes. _Many_ times. Now, wouldn't you like to get settled into your new quarters? Mr. Spock can show you the way," McCoy said with a gesture to a Spock who was simply watching the back and forth. Ever so slightly amused.

"Oh, certainly; thank you for the kind offer." At that, Chirrut stood and Spock saw that he truly was not large for a human. Though, he thought with an unconscious, momentary narrowing of his eyes, the man in monk's garb had a certain... carriage that begged whether that mattered.  
"Though," Chirrut began, "If possible, Baze and I would prefer a private, shared-"

"I already told you 'yes'," McCoy said. Sounding, at least to a certain science officer who had known him for years, like he was nearing the end of his rope. "Yes, ya'll're gettin' _one_ room with a door and privacy and all the bells and whistles _our_ crew get, alright?"

"Alright, Doctor. In that case, I cannot wait to be settled in. If you please, Mr. Spock?" The man asked of his guide in a perfectly polite fashion.

"Of course. Right his way," Spock said, indicating the hall that led to the door.

"Chirrut," said a voice Spock was unfamiliar with and which, when Chirrut turned back to the occupied biobed, Spock realized was the rough voice of one-

"Baze Malbus, the Doctor told you to rest," Chirrut admonished. Placing a hand in the larger one laying near the edge of the bed. Out from under the provided blanket.

"I _am_ resting. I'm still in bed, aren't I?" Reasoned the man with the impressive amount of facial hair.

"And you'll stay there until the kind doctor releases you," insisted the monk, who's expression Spock could only describe as a fond, perhaps loving, worried.

"You know," Baze said with a conspiratorial twitch of an eyebrow. Prompting Chirrut to lean down closer. "The doctor's only making you leave because you've been driving him crazy."

The monk straightened rather abruptly at that.  
"Nonsense. Dr. McCoy and I have become fast friends. Haven't we, Doct-"

"Oh, it's been a hoot and a half all right," McCoy cut in. Not appearing amused. "Your new quarters await your inspection, Mr. Imwé."

"Ah, you see Baze? The doctor and I are on a last name basis. We _must_ be friends," the monk finished with a gentle squeeze of the... if Spock were to hazard a guess, mercenary's hand.

"Don't get on the new guy's nerves," Baze Malbus warned. "He looks like trouble." To that, Spock raised an eyebrow.

" _My_ kind of trouble?"

"Yes, Chirrut, _your_ kind of trouble. So don't-"

"In that case-"

"-antagonize him."

"-I'm ready to see our host's graciously accommodating quarters." The monk finished with a pat to his friend's arm, then moved to join Spock and McCoy.

Ready to show the way, Spock paused at the meaningful look that Baze Malbus caught his attention with.

"You watch yourself, friend. He's nothing but trouble," said the injured man with the wild hair.

"Oh, Baze," said the 'nothing but trouble' in question. "You know that's only if I _want_ to be."

"Then you must _want_ to be, **all** the time," quipped the recumbent, burly patient.

"Oh, poor Baze; must be delirious," the monk said as he continued past the Vulcan to pause by the doctor. "Please, see to his brain. Do not let him continue life as-"

"Myself?"

"...That would be a fate worse than-"

"Death? Were you going to say 'death', Chirrut Imwé?" Demanded the admittedly rather dangerous looking man in the biobed that was beginning to beep faster.

"Well, Mr. Spock, shall we?" Chirrut said. Ignoring the disgruntled question.

"This way then," Spock said, starting off for the exit. The two of them leaving the medical professional and the probable gun for hire —or perhaps 'professional protector', now that Spock gave that option a thought— to their grumblings.

 **Our first look at how the Rogue One crew is doing. The first of many! And no worries; Jyn and the others were beamed up as well and will soon enter the story!  
**

 **Also: What'd y'all think of Chirrut and Baze's characterizations? It's the first I've ever written for them, so I hope they came across well!**


	5. Spock And Chirrut Take A Walk

**What happens when you put a Mr. Spock and a Chirrut Imwé on a long walk in a spaceship together? Let's find out!**

"Oh, one of our new guests, Mr. Spock?" Asked a Captain Kirk that Spock had nearly walked headlong into. As the captain had been walking _into_ Dr. McCoy's office just as the Vulcan had been walking Chirrut and himself **out**.

"Jim?" Spock asked, nonplussed to see the off duty captain. Especially directly in front of what was perhaps the place on the ship the man avoided most vehemently.

"I was eager to check in on the situation down here. And, of course, to see how our new guests were recovering." The captain paused to give the monk by his first officer's side a looking over. Seemingly pleased by the novelty of the robes.  
"You appear to be well, Mr.?"

"Chirrut. And you would be...?"

"Hm? Oh, right," Jim said with a self deprecating smile. "I'm James Kirk, captain of the Star Ship Enterprise and best friend to my first officer, Spock, here," he finished with an unnecessary flourish of one hand, indicating where Spock was standing not two feet from either of the other two.

"Oh, well it is an honor to make the acquaintance of the generous captain who saw fit to save the forgotten souls on the surface of a doomed planet."

"Uh," said Jim as the monk inclined his head in a grateful bow. "You're welcome, Mr. Chirrut."

"Well, wonderful to meet you, but I am tired and I hear your first officer is to show me to a wonderful room I have been assigned," the monk said, just as unconcerned speaking with a captain as he seemed speaking with the ship's head physician.

"Well, I wouldn't want to get in the way of _that_ ," Jim said, neatly sidestepping Spock to offer Chirrut a parting handshake. Appearing amused when the robed man simply continued gazing at him politely. "Oh, right, my apologies," the captain of a starship apologized as he retracted his hand to instead offer a bow.

"There is no need for apologies, Captain," Chirrut said with a mirroring bow. "I thank you once again for your generosity in your rescue efforts and your medical staff's expertise. Without which, for me at least, the rescue effort would have only been so helpful."

Spock felt an eyebrow raise as he wondered as to the nature and extent of the monks injuries at the time of the planet's intentional destruction.

"You're welcome, Mr. Chirrut," Jim said with what may have been the same question on his mind. Judging by his expression. "I look forward to seeing you in the halls."

"That would be a pleasure," Chirrut agreed.

"See ya, Spock," Jim said with a 'have fun with that' smirk and parting, 'friendly' clap to Spock's upper arm. Which confirmed for the first officer that the captain was indeed in a good mood, as the contact imparted a quick glance into Jim's most superficial thoughts.  
Spock wondered, as he gestured for his charge the direction they were to take, whether Jim was aware just how sensitive a Vulcan's touch telepathy was. And that it didn't always matter whether it was the Vulcan initiating the touch.

As he and Chirrut began down the corridor, Spock shook his head and decided that the application of logic to this particular puzzle would not garner him the answer. Just as logic applied to a game of three dimensional chess against the captain rarely led him to a checkmate in his favor.  
Jim was simply too illogical.

"I sense that you and the captain share a strong bond. One tempered by years of service and trust. It is... refreshing, to say the least."

Spock studied the face of the monk walking beside him. Not sure what to think of this perfect stranger's unsolicited analysis of he and Jim's... relationship.  
Before they reached another turn in the corridor, he decided an artful sidestepping of the issue most prudent. "If I am not mistaken, you and your Baze Malbus also have a long history together. You've served the same order? Or temple?"

The small smile that spread across his walking companion's face had the quality of answer in and of itself.  
"The Force is strong with you, Mr. Spock. You are correct; Baze and I spent many years in service of the Temple of the Whills, as guardians of the sacred texts and of the since stolen kyber crystals."

"The kyber crystals are religious artifacts?" Spock asked, noticing Chirrut's somber amusement when he did.

"Yes, and no," the monk said with a small smile. "In their pure form, yes, but when they are coveted for their other, more destructive properties and refined into weapons, those who wield them may lose sight of their origin."

"They become tools and their meaning is lost?" Spock posited.

"That is the unfortunate reality," Chirrut confirmed. "And the reason that Baze and I can no longer serve our temple. _Have_ not for years now."

Spock was vaguely aware that the two of them were walking with similarly relaxed, amicable postures, but at the direct mention of the monk's former temple, he noted Chirrut's shoulders tighten minutely and the few lines on his face sharpen _just_ noticeably.  
Even having taken into account Dr. McCoy's concerns about their 'new guest', however questionable, Spock saw no reason to worry. Those were completely normal phenomena for a humanoid when in the process of inspecting unpleasant memories. He only hoped he himself was not mirroring his walking companion thusly as he opened his mouth to offer his sympathies. "I too have lost a home to the ravages of a tool whose original purpose was forsaken for revenge."

Chirrut inclined his head some in a gesture that imparted understanding. "I suppose ones such as ourselves should take comfort in the knowledge that we still exist. Fore, as those who can act as examples of our cultures, if we are lucky, perhaps we can help others remember as well."

"Well said," Spock agreed, thinking that the venerable Ambassador Spock, with his many decades of hard won wisdom, could almost as easily have been the one who had spoken the sentiment.  
The thought was almost... comforting.

They walked a ways in silence. Both cogitating. Spock doing his best to not contemplate the many myriad ways that things might have turned out differently had his home planet not been eradicated by a madman with the power to reduce a heavenly body to little more than a cosmic ripple. How different _he_ might be were his mother still alive.

As they rounded the next corner, Spock held out a hand to indicate the turbolift that they were to take to reach the correct floor and raised an eyebrow when their 'new guest' did not turn in its direction nor stop walking.  
"We have reached the... 'elevator'," said the perplexed Vulcan as he wondered why the monk had not heeded his visual instruction, even though his eyes had appeared to be scanning in his direction at the time.

"Oh, wonderful! No stairs for these old knees!" Chirrut said with a smile, sounding more pleased then Spock thought there was reason to.

As the two of them approached the lift door, Spock thought back on the entirety of his and Chirrut's interaction and found a pattern. One that included much 'scanning of the environment' but very little 'looking' from the blue eyed man. Which brought Spock to a fascinating conclusion. One for which the science officer in him begged an answer.  
"Excuse me if this comes across as insensitive, but is that a standard eye color where you are from, or are you, in fact, blind?" Spock asked as the two of them entered the waiting turbolift.

"Ha! I thought that the good Doctor McCoy would have informed you! I am blind as a bat, it is true," Chirrut confirmed with a nod. Not perturbed in the slightest.

"Then, is the intermittent, high pitched noise emanating from that box hanging slung across your body a form of echolocation?" Spock asked as he pushed the button for the correct floor.

"Oh?" This time, a look of surprise formed on Chirrut Imwe's face. Soon replaced by that same smile from before. "I was wondering whether those ears of yours were just for show. I should have known better."

Spock felt himself brought up short by the observation.

"Yes. The Force has given me a pretty clear look at you. I think it's trying to tell me something," the monk added in a whisper, leaning minutely closer to the science officer. As if attempting to share some form of secret.

"What do you suspect it is that this 'Force' might be attempting to 'tell' you?" Spock asked. Far more curious than he believed he might have sound reason to be.

"That we should be friends," Chirrut said. Lips pulling back to reveal a set of strangely amicable looking teeth. Ever so slightly blunted around the edges.

The man must have been a vegetarian. Not dissimilar to Vulcan kind in that regard. Especially when factoring in the extrasensorial perceptions and observations he'd managed just in the short time they'd walked together.  
Quite uncanny. From someone who appeared so very human, at least.

"This 'Force' you speak of, is a facet of your religious beliefs?" Spock asked. Rather surprised to find his interest piqued. Blaming it on the pastime theologian in him.

"Yes. Yes and a little bit no," the monk said with a convicted nod.

"If it is no inconvenience to you, I would very much like to know more about this 'Force' of yours."

"Do not worry, brother, the inconvenience will be wholly yours," Chirrut said with what Spock could only describe as a mischievous smile.

Fascinating.

 **The bit at the end about Spock being a theologian is in reference to the OG Star Trek episode The Way To Eden, wherein he mentions his fascination with the religions and or religious philosophies of other cultures. :D**

 **I hear a lot of people don't particularly like the episode, maybe because of all the clear allegories to hippies and youth culture of the time, but I personally had great fun with it!**

 **Hope y'all had fun with Chirrut and Spock's walk and talk!**


	6. Meeting Baze

**Jim may have it in his mind that he is prepared for every eventuality, but our intrepid captain has never met one Baze Malbus before.**

Kirk shook his head, still entertained by his bumping into Spock while the guy was essentially on babysitting duty. The fact that the baby in question was probably at _least_ Spock's age —and Vulcan's always looked young for their age— not making the situation a lick less funny.

As Kirk walked through the door to Bones' office, he shook his head a second time at the situation and at how much he found he already liked the new guy _being_ babysat. He had cool clothes. And **really** cool eyes.

"What's up, Bones?" Kirk asked as soon as the office door shut behind him.

" _There_ you are, Jim! What took ya so long?" The doctor asked with a cross-armed smirk.

"You _just_ called," Kirk reminded his seemingly amused friend. "And I'm here **now** , so: what's up?"

"Oh, you know, just running our _entire_ medical division on little more than a catnap and a prayer," the doctor said while pretending to wipe sweat off of his forehead.

"How are our new guests doing? Are they shocked by the technology?" The captain asked, deciding he wasn't annoyed at the doc because he probably would have made his way down there even if he hadn't been asked. Ending with a proud glance around at the med office interior.

"Not so much as you might hope," McCoy said with a hint of sympathy, which helped blunt the sting of disappointment Kirk felt at the news. "Aside from the transporter and medbay, they weren't all that impressed. Except by how clean it is," Bones ended with a chuckle.

"Well, I guess this galaxy has more than just advanced weaponry to their credit," Kirk said, allowing himself the low swing in spirits at the knowledge that his ship hadn't left their guests completely awestruck.

"'Advanced' my foot," McCoy said, a well worn scowl coming to his face. "These poor people were laser blasted, blown up, and plain old beaten to within inches of their lives. Ain't nothing advanced about that," he ended in a grumble.

"Uh, I was referring to the planet killer weapon, Bones."

"Oh. Well, I guess that one _was_ pretty impressive." Bones begrudged, crossing his arms a little harder as his mouth took a downward turn.

"So... am I here for the update, or was there something more you needed to see me about?" Kirk asked. Knowing full well that _both_ of them had very important things that would soon again need **them** doing them.

"Yep. Ya see that feller just left with your first officer?"

"Yeah," Kirk said. Pretty sure Bones had _seen_ him see the new guy. Considering the door was **right** over there.

"Well, there's another one of him and I didn't wanna send _both_ of 'em with Spock."

"Didn't want to give _both_ of them the impression that the ship's run by a bunch of aliens who talk like living dictionaries and never smile?" Kirk asked while he suppressed a wry smirk.

"Naw, just didn't want the two of 'em ganging up on him and stirrin' up some sorta rebellion on the way to their 'private, shared quarters', McCoy said with a look of disdain etched deep into his face.  
Rather becoming on him. Really brought out the natural crabbiness in his eyes.

"Really, Bones? The little guy in the hall? Against _Spock_?" Kirk chuckled, in the most disbelieving tone he possessed.

"Yes, 'really' Goddamn it," McCoy snapped, inching closer to the captain of the ship with his disdainful face firmly in place. "That 'little guy' has one of the freakiest bodies I've ever seen, alright? He might not _look_ like all that much, but there's something... **inhuman** about him."

"...And his friend?" Kirk asked, resisting backing away from the intense stare.

"...Naw," Bones said, finally relaxing. "That guy's a big teddy bear. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless," the doctor backpedaled with a smirk, "that fly tried to take a bite out of his _husband_."

"We picked up _married_ troublemakers?" Kirk asked with a bit of a gawp.

"Well, _they_ didn't say it, but it only takes seeing them together in a room to **know** it," McCoy explained, quite sensibly.

"Uh-huh. Hey, uh, Bones?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Why, _exactly_ , was it that you asked **me** down here?" Kirk asked. Entertained by the ' _now_ you wanna talk work' look it got him.

"Same reason I asked Spock: So that high ranking officers who have diplomatic training as well as excellent marks in hand to hand combat could escort our guests to their quarters. _Separately_."

Kirk couldn't help but laugh at that. "Me? The captain of the ship? Why-"

"Because you're right for the job, okay? Now stop jabberjawin' and you come say a friendly little hello to your new guest," McCoy insisted, taking Kirk's arm and directing him for the medbay proper.

By this point in their long, _long_ , 'friendship', Kirk knew the best way to react to being dragged around by his very own, self-appointed, 'personal physician' was to just go with it. So he did and his arm stayed in his socket where it belonged and before he knew it, he was watching a well built, scruffy man just finishing up fastening the closure on the second of his big, clunky boots.

Bones let go of his arm and that was more hint than he needed. So he stepped close enough for introductions and tried not to study the newer new guy's clothes as he opened his mouth.  
"Ah, you must be Mr. Chirrut's..." He left the end of the sentence blank, interested in how their guest might fill it in.

"Actually, he's _mine_ ," the burly man corrected with what felt distinctly like a warning glint in his eye.

"Oh, right, _absolutely_. And-"

"And that Mr. Spock is yours, right?" The large man asked with a pointed look that Kirk didn't understand.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, Mr. Spock's my-"

"Good. Then we can be friends." Then, with a considerably less hostile glint in his eyes, the refugee from a doomed planet stepped forward and shook Kirk's hand. Something his Mr. Chirrut had chosen _not_ to. "I'm Baze. Malbus. Dr. McCoy tells me you're to show me to Chirrut and my room?"

Kirk could do nothing but blink for longer than he liked as he processed all that Mr. Malbus had just **told** him. _Him_. The captain of the ship that'd just saved his and 'his' Mr. Chirrut's —and every other person's, for that matter— life from that Godforsaken planet-  
Oh. Right. Kirk thought as he glanced over at a Bones who looked like he was having the best time of his entire life, arms wrapped around himself as if the self imposed hug might somehow keep at bay the rib busting laughter Kirk could see hiding just under the surface.

Bones hadn't mentioned who he was to their new guest. On _purpose_. Though, to be fair, he wasn't sure telling this Mr. Malbus would make much difference. Guy looked like he didn't much care for chain of command anyway.

So, the famed Captain James T. Kirk cleared his throat, squared his shoulders... and made a polite gesture toward the exit. "Kirk. After you."

"Heh, I like the service around here," Mr. Malbus said as he swaggered his way past his hosts and out of medbay proper.

"Huh. Managed to leave a good first impression? Guess there _is_ a first time for everything," jabbed a smug doctor who Kirk would **definitely** be ignoring for the rest of the day.

xxxXXXxxx

Out in the hall, Kirk found Mr. Malbus standing with his eyes closed, looking as if he was concentrating on... something.

"It's this way, right?" Asked the big guy as he held a gloved hand out, pointing with his entire hand down the hall.

"Uh, yep. How- how did you-"

"Let's go then."

"Wha-" Kirk found himself half-jogging to catch up when his escortee took off at a determined, double time march. "What's the hurry?" He asked as he fell in next to the man with the bouncing, scraggle of a mane.

" _You_ want to leave those two alone together. Without supervision?"

Suddenly remembering quite clearly what Bones had insisted about the danger potential of the 'little guy' Spock was no doubt giving an oblivious, 'fascinating' guided tour, Kirk muttered a quick, "Point taken," and took the lead.

xxxXXXxxx

They arrived at the designated birthing sooner than Kirk thought possible. Especially considering his 'new buddy' —as he was _sure_ Bones would be calling him later— hadn't taken 'No, the Jefferies Tubes will **not** be faster than the _Turbo_ lift!', for an answer. Twice.

He'd finally gotten the guy to listen when the both of them had pulled themselves out the second hatch and he'd managed to pin the ruffian between a convenient wall and his side long enough to get a full sentence past his winded lungs.  
"There's a _reason_ it's called a 'Turbo'lift!" Then, when he'd gone on to explain approximately how long it would take them to get there, crawling through the walls as they were, versus them standing in a lift that travelled at higher than previously thought safe velocities, the weirdo had shoved him off and walked calmly to the nearest lift door.

"Well? What're you waiting for? Take us to our people," Mr. Malbus said in a tone which very much made Kirk want to drop the 'Mr.' from his name.

Thankfully, when the two approached the birthing door, it opened up without a pause, recognizing Mr. Malbus as one of the couple assigned to it. Otherwise, Kirk wasn't sure the man with the thuggish physique would have let the fact that it was closed stop him from _getting_ in.

Soon as the captain and the cad poked their heads in well enough that they could make out the seating area, and the Vulcan and monk seated at the comfortable looking chairs therein, they each breathed a sigh of relief. Even if Kirk had very little idea why.  
Then, when the pair of them heard what it was 'their people' were talking about, they ended up paused right there in the entrance. Both bringing an exasperated hand to their own face and giving their head a shake.

"Why does he **do** this?" Kirk asked as he looked back up and into the room.

"Now he's got him-"

"-Talking _religion_?"

"-right where he wants him." Kirk raised an eyebrow at that and his fellow eavesdropper explained with, "Chirrut can go on and on about the Force until the nerf's come home and the moons come out."

Almost as perplexed by that... novel sentence as he was by the sight of Spock deep in the throws of a philosophical conversation with someone who wasn't _him_ , Kirk brushed past his 'new buddy', stepped into the room and struck a captainly pose. Confident that his authoritative presence alone would be enough to break the two from their ramblings.

A few feet behind him, a throat was cleared in a low, conspiratorial way, so he glanced back at Baze who was now leaning on one side of the open doorway.

"Chirrut's blind."

"Oh," Kirk said, thinking that that explained a few things, before moving several steps over and striking his pose a second time. Now _sure_ that he was in Spock's general line of sight.

"Captain," his first officer said as he snapped to his feet.

Kirk held in a smirk at the look of surprise he was _pretty_ sure he caught before Spock's face reverted to its Vulcan resting state.  
"At ease, Mr. Spock, we're off the clock for a _little_ longer."

"What brings you here? Is there something-"

"He was just showing me the way to my room," Baze spoke up from over by the door as he let it shut behind him.

"Baze? The good Doctor McCoy let you go so soon?" Mr. Chirrut asked as he too rose from his seat opposite Spock's.

"Yes. And now I'm tired and I believe it's time that our guest-hosts be on their way. I'm sure they're very busy just running the ship without having to worry about a couple old trouble makers."

Judging by the way he could _see_ the signs of somebody in dire need of a good night's sleep on both trouble makers' faces, even though the guy in the really cool robes' smile was showing no signs of stopping, Kirk figured it was absolutely time for him _and_ Spock to skedaddle. So, bopping the stoic guy on one shoulder, he led the way out and away from the shared birthing and in the direction of the nearest mess hall.

Before they got more than a few steps though, Kirk decided that if Spock asked him about his escort mission, he was lying through his teeth.  
Yep. He'd say he and Mr. Malbus had had a completely normal, unhurried, 'pleased to make your acquaintance' walk and Spock would be none the wiser.  
That is, unless Bones pulled the security feed. And sent a copy to his first officer.

Yeah, never mind. He was **so** screwed.

 **Haha! Oh, Baze, you crack me up! Anyone else think that, deep down, Kirk really had a jolly good time chasing his new buddy around? Good break from captaining, if nothing else. :D**


	7. Evacuation, Part One

**Baze and Chirrut are lucky to be alive. Baze is acutely aware of that fact.**  
 **He's also acutely aware that this is the first opportunity they've had to sleep in a comfortable,** ** _clean_** **room in... years actually. So he's taking full advantage while the offer stands.**

Baze managed to get Chirrut settled down much faster than he usually could after the guy got in a good pontification over the many, **many** virtues believing in the Force was bound to bring to one's life.  
Especially considering the one being pontificated to, in this particular incidence, had actually _wanted_ to hear all about it. Had even looked fascinated. Gone as far, as Baze could tell, as to ask for clarification and offer his own observations, when applicable.

"Oh, Baze, I believe I've made a new friend on this ship," the excitable monk said as he _finally_ settled himself down onto the bed and allowed Baze to arrange the cover over him.

"Mm-hm," Baze began, bending over to give his religious zealot a goodnight kiss. Pleasantly surprised when a hand cupped the back of his head to keep him there for a second. And a third.

"And he's already taken. I know, no matter how much you'd never doubt me, that fact must please you," Chirrut said in a teasing voice as Baze walked around the foot of the bed.

"It's not _him_ I'd have a problem with," Baze said as he stretched himself out and under his side of the covers. "No, I think you have an admirer. And I think that admirer is a shameless playboy."

"Oh, the captain? Baze, you worry too much," said Chirrut as the two of them attempted to get their backs to adjust to the foreign feelings of having a soft mattress underneath them. "Besides, you didn't see them together the way I did. Absolute devotion. They couldn't take their eyes off each other."

"How could you tell? You're-"

"Not blind to the brightness of their connection, Baze Malbus," the monk said in a cheery tone. Sighing contentedly just as Baze did; both of their backs having given up the protest and relaxed at the same time.

"Chirrut?"

"Yes, Baze?"

"Go to sleep, you sentimental old fool," Baze said, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

Chirrut hummed good naturedly before responding with, "Love you too, you sentimental old fool."

The two of them fell asleep chuckling.

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

As Baze laid dying on the Scarif battleground, watching the only person he really cared about dying not thirty agonizing feet away, he was not afraid. He could still _feel_ his other half, the guiding light that kept him on the path of righteousness. Baze could still feel the good influence of his lifelong friend pushing him not to despair, and not to give in to the fading of his life force. Not yet.

His hazy vision sharpened some as he thought he saw more movement from Chirrut than that of the wind fluttering a robe sleeve.  
He was moving- _Somehow_ Chirrut was moving; turning towards Baze, able to sense him through their bond if not through that fickle thing known as the Force itself, and it looked as if he wanted to say something.

Knowing there was no way either of them had strength left to throw their voice that great a distance, Baze instead looked to Chirrut's hand, where it turned out it was already trying to get his attention.

Baze, a man who knew they had minutes left if they were _lucky_ , concentrated all his remaining consciousness into decoding the temple sign that every guardian of the Whills had learned in their training, which proved difficult through the soot his sweat was dripping into his eyes.

Two repetitions and Baze was confident both that he had read it correctly, and that Chirrut had gone delirious in his last moments. For what the man's fingers were insisting, *Rescue here. Love you always.*, couldn't possibly be true.  
Except the last part. Baze had never doubted that last bit. In fact, he wished that Chirrut had the ability to see it when he lifted one shaking, gloved hand and mirrored the sensical portion of the sign right on back. Wishing his other half could only perceive the message. Somehow.

When a small, strained smile broke out on Chirrut's face, Baze coughed on a blood tinged chuckle, knowing that his counterpart had indeed, _impossibly_ , received his meaning.

Comforted by their ability to communicate, to make each other **smile** , even perched upon the precipice of death, Baze allowed his body to relax into the dirt beneath. There was, after all, no need to keep up the struggle if there was no hope of survival. He could still see Chirrut, and that was all he could ask for. At the end. For a little company and... Wait a second. Why was Chirrut glowing?

Then, without warning, a sudden bright light obscured Baze's view of the battlefield and the sole person upon it for whom he cared, and he blinked hard to clear his eyes. No such luck. But when he glanced around at himself, Baze realized that the strange glowing was affecting him as well.

They were getting too old for this sh-

In an instant, a stranger than fiction feeling of not existing at all came and went, leaving Baze as disoriented as he'd ever felt in his relatively adventurous life. Instinctually he knew that the explosion concussion was not solely responsible.  
No, the fact that he was suddenly laying on a smooth, inorganic, hard surface inexplicably dotted with lights, inside a room he'd never before seen the likes of, surrounded by a squad of people dressed in bright, primary colored uniforms who looked like they'd never seen a mercenary before, told him it was more than the blood loss as well.  
He wasn't on Scarif anymore.

When that thought made his heart clench, Baze swallowed a nascent, grief stricken scream and remembered that he hadn't been the only one bathed in white light on that dying planet.  
He tore his eyes from the open expressions of shock on the collection of overwhelmingly young people in front of him to look instead beside himself, where he barely held his tongue back from thanking the Force and any deities that might be listening because... Chirrut was with him. No longer smiling, no longer conscious, but **there** all the same and all Baze wanted was to reach out and touch him; check that he was alright. That he was still-

"Oxygen! One of them's stopped breathing!" Baze felt something inside him grow fainter as he searched for the one who had confirmed his worst nightmare. A woman, blonde and of similar age to the rest, a blue dress with a triangle where one would wear a symbol of their loyalty, opened her mouth to speak again. "Let's move it people, I'm not losing a patient just because we're in a new Galaxy! Standard procedure, go, go, go," she insisted as she climbed the steps up onto the platform and bent over the closer of them.

As she ran a handheld machine up and down Baze's upper body, frowning in a way that showed the depths of her concentration, the other blue clad, fresh faced crew began, finally, to stir.  
When the doctor, as the woman clearly was, pulled out a second machine, Baze, aware his other half's life force was fading farther and farther from him, waited for her eyes to meet his before croaking the most important plea of his life.  
"Him first."

The doctor stared at him for a moment, before giving him the most private of nods and straightening. "See to him," she ordered, with a gesture in his direction, to the first group to follow her onto the platform.

"Yes, Dr. Chappel," the group snapped in unison as they descended upon Baze, who ignored the medical staff when they began asking questions of him. Too busy tracking the doctor's progress.

"Oxygen, Doctor," said as what had to be the youngest member of a medical crew he'd ever seen hopped the steps and handed over a device which Baze thought _resembled_ a small breathing mask.

"Excellent. Now, gurneys," said the doctor as she fitted the devise to Chirrut's face. "And make sure the operating rooms are fully prepped. I have a feeling this is only the first round."

As the nurses and orderlies and other staff rushed around the room like a pack of very organized, headless banthas, Baze found his focus centered on the two people who were staying still. **Willing** the unmoving, robed chest of his monk to draw breath back into those lungs; to bring back the comforting, calming presence of his-

And he was back. Baze felt the other side of the connection return, strong as ever, even before he saw the movement he'd so desperately needed to see.  
The relief he felt, the threat of the grief he'd _narrowly_ avoided living with for the duration of his life, was so powerful, that Baze's vision blotted out. When his hearing followed, he realized that more than likely, it was actually the good old fashioned blood loss catching up with him and that he'd better not fight it this time.

He just hoped this strange ship had his type on hand.  
And a sense of humor. Otherwise, when Chirrut woke up, they were getting kicked off at the nearest inhabitable planetoid.

xxxXXXXxxxXXXXxxx

Baze woke with a well suppressed start, barely jerking at all, rather used to having his sleep interrupted one way or another. He'd taught himself to be quiet about it a long time ago. For several reasons. The biggest of which being that for the longest time, he'd had Chirrut sleeping near by and-

Baze snapped his head to the side and closed his eyes in relief when, on the other half of the bed, Chirrut laid safe and sound. Face no longer smudged in grime and blood. Only bathed in the same gentle sort of darkness as the rest of the generously proportioned room their new hosts had granted them.

Hoping that the echoes of his dream receded soon, Baze reached out a hand and laid it gently atop his monk's chest. Comforted by the tactile reassurance that Chirrut still drew breath.

"Baze?" Asked someone Baze had most certainly thought was fast asleep.

"Yes, Chirrut?"

"Go to sleep, you sentimental old fool," said the one person Baze couldn't imagine life without.

"Love you too, you sentimental old fool."

Once again, the pair fell asleep to the sound of their own chuckles. This time, snuggled close enough to touch. Each comforted by the feeling of the other's heart beating strong under his hand.

 **Oh how I wish that these two had survived Rogue One! What am I saying? Of course they did!**  
 **Now if only Jyn and Cassian and- agh wait. So did they!**

 **And at long last: Next chapter will feature Jyn and Cassian! Hopefully that gives us** ** _all_** **something to look forward to! :D**

 **Also: Reference made to one of my favorite** ** _ever_** **Star Wars books, Guardians Of The Whills, by one of my favorite ever comic book writers, Greg Rucka.  
It's technically housed in the youth sections, but is a beautiful Chirrut/Baze (barely any squinting required there) story which builds up backstory and leads us almost directly into Rogue One.  
I basically loved it.**


	8. Evacuation, Part Two

**Jyn and Cassian are in bad shape after transmitting those codes. They know the planet doesn't have long. They know** ** _they_** **don't have long.**  
 **Here are their final minutes before the Enterprise's fateful interference.**

On a Scarif beach, right off the pleasant lapping of its crystal clear salt water, sat a rebel and a captain, clutching to consciousness with just as much tenacity as it had taken to drag themselves out from that tomb of an Imperial library and out into the light of the fading sun. The world around them alight with the bright flashes of explosives and blaster fire as it was awash in the serene yellows and reds of a tropical sunset.

The ozone smell indicative of countless weapons discharges hung heavy in the air, even as a sea spray breeze ruffled their hair and reminded them what a beautiful planet the Empire had chosen as its depository for the most heinous and heavily guarded of its secrets.  
A beautiful planet that was about to be brought to an abrupt and absolutely unjust end. With them sitting front row for the show. The show of a lifetime.

Jyn felt as Cassian took a shuddering breath and finally allowed himself to release some of the tension from the knotted, angry muscles along his back. Relaxing that last bit so that he was truly relying on her to keep him upright. And though Jyn knew she wasn't in top form herself, she was glad there was at least this much she could do to keep the beaten and bloodied man comfortable. In their last minutes.

The bangs practically plastered to one side of her head with quickly souring sweat were rustled by what could only have been the hot breath of a whisper.

"What?" Jyn asked of her companion. Finding she wasn't hearing well over the echoes of the many recent, close quarters explosions. Still ricocheting around inside her head as they were. The roar of the rolling waves not helping matters.

"I mean, I never expected the end to be so peaceful. For me." Jyn strained to listen as Cassian paused to breathe through a cringe. No doubt doing his best to hide how much his battered body was effecting him. "I always thought I'd see myself die with a knife in my back or maybe a blaster in my hand. Like in all the old Jedi stories from before the rise of the Empire." When he stopped again, Jyn glanced over in time to see Cassian lick some of the red from his lips. Then she put her eyes front once more and tried not to shudder at the sympathetic tang of blood she tasted on her own tongue.  
"Never thought I would die watching the sunset... with a friend."

"And I never thought I'd join the Rebellion. Let alone lead a rebel squad into Imperial territory, steal my father's plans for his booby-trapped Death Star, kill the man who killed my mother, and still have time to _make_... a friend. And yet, here we are. My sidekick," she said with an upward curl to her parched mouth, even as she felt her own body waver as the captain leaned more of his trembling weight into her side, "a beautiful sunset, and... the knowledge that today, _we_ beat the Empire."

"Overall, not the worst way to go out," Cassian said. Before twitching his head away from Jyn's to spit some blood onto the fine sand.

At least he wasn't swallowing it. Not _all_ of it anyway, Jyn thought with a shudder as she heard him do just that.  
"Know what would make this better? If my father knew we'd made it," she said. With a thick swallow of her own. "That all of his- That his life's work wasn't all for nothing."

"Don't worry, Jyn. He knows. He's here."

Jyn's brows furrowed at the nonsensical notion, but she glanced over when she noticed movement from where Cassian had his hands folded in his lap. There, one of his less bruised fingers was pointing off in front of them. Off toward the ocean. Where the waves shimmered in the waning sunshine. And the green, familiar outline of a human hovered just above the break of the tiny waves.

The breath caught in Jyn's chest as her face froze in a gawk.

"He wants... to tell you something."

Gobsmacked by the sight of what appeared to be her very, _very_ dead father, not twenty feet in front of her, Jyn couldn't find it in herself to look over at Cassian nor spare the attention to worry over the way his voice was getting reedier.  
She couldn't tear her eyes from the green, almost hologram like likeness of Galen Erso. Hovering right above the sand now. It having somehow closed half the distance without her noticing.

Jyn felt her heart pounding in her chest and still could do nothing. Not until her head swam and she was forced to either relax her diaphragm or pass out. Thankfully the decision was taken out of her hands as her survival instincts kicked in and drew breath into her lungs for her.

"Father?" She asked. Feeling a hint of surprise at the warble in her usually steady voice.

The ghostly image nodded. "I'm so very proud of you, my Stardust."

"Papa?" The only thing Jyn could get passed the lump in her dry throat.

"Your mother is here as well. She's come to see you." The image of Galen Erso said, quite calmly, before he held a hand out to his side and a second green glow grew around it. Larger and larger until an entire silhouette formed and suddenly, Jyn was looking at her long, **long** lost family, standing together and happy right in front of her.

"Look how you've grown," said the mother Jyn had never forgotten the fighting spirit of. "Our little rebel; taking on the Empire and showing them what for." The ghost held up a fist in a victorious gesture. One which the first phantasm mirrored with a chuckle.

"Mama, Papa, I- This planet is dying and we don't have long," the rebel said as she indicated the captain against her shoulder. The warble of her voice growing as she realized he was no longer conscious. And that he wouldn't be waking back up.

"I'll join you soon," Jyn promised. A whisper into Cassian's close ear. Then she turned back to the parents she'd said a screaming, sobbing goodbye to two decades previous and took a moment to fill her aching chest.  
"We'll be together again. The three of us." Jyn blinked hard against a darkness welling up somewhere behind her eyelids and forged on with the biggest smile her bruised face would allow. "The planet's almost gone and when it is... we'll finally be a family again."

"No, Stardust, I'm afraid we have a bit of a wait ahead of us," the glowing, green manifestation of her _father_ said with a sad smile. Which widened when his wife squeezed her husband's arm where she was holding it. Just as she had so many times in life.

"Your time, _thankfully_ ," the shimmering afterimage of Lyra Erso said, voice encouraging, "is a long time from now, in a galaxy far, far away."

"What?" It must have been the echoes of explosions in her ears again. She can't have heard that right.

"We love you, Stardust," Galen said with a crinkle to his eyes.

"I love you too," Jyn insisted. Meaning it with every fiber of her tattered, life-hardened being.

"And we can't wait to see what kind of amazing adventures you take on next," her _mother_ insisted with an earnest nod.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," promised her father.

Then, together, the couple with the green glow smiled a small smile and spoke once more. "May the force be with you."

And then there was a white, blinding light all around Jyn. So bright that she couldn't even see the captain laying against her. Couldn't see her parents anymore. Couldn't see the inside of her eyelids when she felt them close against the overwhelming-

And then it was gone. And she and Cassian were exactly as they had been before.  
Except that the sand had turned to solid plastic and metal, and the air no longer tasted of death and salty sea spray. And her ears were ringing louder than ever.

"...Stretchers... Medbay three..."

Jyn opened her eyes as she felt the floor vibrate with approaching footsteps. Someone was coming close. Someone wearing a bright blue shirt, who's dark skin and short cropped hair made thoughts of the small blaster she'd taken off an expired Imperial trooper disappear in a burst of fond memories.  
"Saw?"

"..." She didn't catch whatever he'd said, but as she concentrated, his face came into focus from where he was crouched in front of them. And that's when Jyn realized that he wasn't Saw Gerrera.  
And that she still wasn't dead.  
Then the ringing of explosions quieted and she could hear the murmur of others milling nearby.

"It's alright," said the man in blue, catching her attention once more, "you can let go of him. We're here to help." The man's impassive face would have her think that there was absolutely nothing wrong, except that he spoke in a tone laced with urgency.

"What?" Jyn asked, having not the foggiest what he could possibly be talking about.

"Your friend. He needs medical attention. As do you. If you let him go we can see to you bo-"

"Where are we?" Jyn demanded. Even as her head swam. And she lost all sensation in her fingers. Then hands.

"You are aboard our ship and we have the means to help you. Please, let go of your friend so that we may begin treatment."

Finally the meaning of the _doctor's_ words soaked in and Jyn managed to loosen wooden arms from where she hadn't noticed they'd gripped completely around Cassian in a protective embrace.

Then, as other blue clad physicians swarmed Captain Andor, the first one —the one who still reminded her ever so slightly of her old mentor— pulled a whirring machine into her field of vision and started fanning it in all directions.  
At least the thing, and indeed the man himself, seemed harmless enough.

"...Dr. M'Benga."

"What?" The rebel asked around another bout of echoed explosions. Which seemed to worry her new friend.

"I said that my name is Dr. M'Benga. What is yours?" His mouth formed the words with more overt motions than before.

"Embenga? Jyn. Erso." She held out a hand after a beat, realizing this was the time that one offered a handshake, but instead of Dr. Embenga taking hers in his, Jyn took her own head in _both_ of hers. As it was exactly then that her damnable ears chose to remind her just how loud some of those Imperial weapons had truly been.

For a moment, all the rebel heard was the roar of fire, all she felt was the heat of something deadly going off far too close for comfort. Then... something inside her head, something near an ear perhaps, **popped** , and with a sudden _wrenching_ pain, everything went quiet.  
Even her mind.

Jyn felt herself slump under the weight of her own used up body, felt a pair of steady arms keep her from the unforgiving floor, then she felt herself wink out.  
Like the last stubborn star in the face of a new sunrise.

 **I'm honestly surprised it took until this deep in the story to even** ** _touch_** **on these two.**  
 **Also surprised over how long that unexpected hiatus turned out. Yikes. Sorry 'bout that.**  
 **Hope y'all enjoyed the update and please take heart; the next chapter should be much sooner in coming than this one! :D**


	9. Jyn And Cassian

**What's it like waking up in medbay aboard the Starship Enterprise? Jyn's about to find out.**

When Jyn woke to the sound of soft, electronic pulsing, the first word on her mind was 'Stardust'. The second was-

"Cassian?"

"Ah, so _that's_ the cuss' name?" Asked a terse voice from somewhere close at hand.

"What?" Jyn asked, mind feeling just a tad slow to catch up.

"Had to sedate the idiot before he hurt somebody. Well, _another_ somebody, anyway," rambled that same voice as before. Lilting with an accent Jyn thought akin to a drunken slur as the clearly sober man attached to it appeared in her line of sight. "Wouldn't believe we were trying to _help_ , which is ridiculous when you consider he wasn't even restrained. At the time."

" **Restrained**? Where-"

"Are you?" The man asked as he came to a stop to one side of Jyn's bed. "Safe, to begin with."

"Are we under arrest?" Jyn asked as the stranger leaned in and shined a light right into her eyes.

" _Should_ you be? 'Cause I could recommend it to the captain, if you'd like."

To that, Jyn could only blink and stare as the uniformed grump straightened and grabbed her wrist in a hold she recognized as one used to check for pulse.  
So he was a medical practitioner, she noted with some small amount of reassurance. At least glad to have solved that mystery.

"Oh yeah, your brother and his husband said to tell you, 'The Force is with you'. And that they're fine."

"What? _Who_?" Jyn asked, noticing as she did that her ears were no longer ringing with the explosions of a planet on the brink of oblivion.

"Chirrut," the man said in that same uncareful tone it seemed he used for everything. Releasing her wrist as he did. "He's kinda _older_ to be your brother, isn't he?"

"It's just an expression," Jyn insisted, propping herself up on one elbow and trying to match the arch of the medic's eyebrows with her own. "He's a monk. He must think of everyone as his sisters and brothers."

"Eh, knowing the menace well as I've gotten to, more'n likely he adopted you," the man said with an offhanded wave as he turned to check some instrument's readout.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Jyn gave a fond smile and nodded to herself.  
"You're right. He probably thinks we're family now."

"Yeah, probably best to let him _keep_ thinking that too, 'cause that brother of yers doesn't like to hear things that don't align with his idea of 'reality'." The way the medic's eyes widened in what appeared to be **great** annoyance almost made Jyn chuckle.

"I've never had a brother. Never too late to start, I suppose," Jyn said with a shrug. A shrug which made her realize just how much less her body ached now than it had in... days. If not longer.

"That's the spirit," the doctor said as he turned back to face his patient full on once more. "By the way, your _violent_ friend should be waking up any minute now, in case, for some Godforsaken reason, you'd like to be there when he does."

"Yes! That is- Yes, I would," Jyn informed, finishing with an extra helping of dignity to cover up the initial excitement. And the sudden bolt into an upright position.

"You sure he's not gonna try and break _your_ nose too?" Asked the sour guy in the blue turtleneck as he reached over and switched off what appeared to be the bioscanners attached to her bed. Which would make sense, considering the electronic pulsing stopped.

" _Pretty_ sure. We did just almost die together," Jyn explained with a mild expression.

"Uh-huh. Alright then, like I said, he should wake up natural like in a minute or so. I'll be right around the corner if anyone starts bleeding. Profusely."

Then, before Jyn could ask where he'd be 'right around the corner' _from_ , the man with the 'your funeral' look on his face pointed over in a direction she hadn't looked yet. Directing her gaze to where Cassian was strapped to a bed just like hers, several berthings away.

"Do me a favor and don't break _his_ nose either." The last thing the medic said before he did exactly what he'd said he would and walked around the nearest corner and out of sight.

As the sound of the stranger's footsteps died down, Jyn was up, quick to cover the several yards of sterilized ground, and before she realized exactly what she was doing, found herself bent practically in half over the occupied, lightly beeping bed. Studying the face of the man she'd been proud to help keep upright as the two of them waited for the untimely, unexpected end of a planet that deserved no such thing.

When the sound of clear, unlabored breathing registered, she huffed out on a sigh and took a seat on the closest sit friendly surface.

He looked good. About as good as Jyn herself felt. Which was so much more than she'd thought possible. After all they'd been through. Getting into those archives, completing their mission, and then...

Honestly, it had felt an alright way to say goodbye to a life she was confident neither of them had been actively enjoying all that much.

Of course, there was a difference between enjoyment and _appreciation_ and Jyn knew that the two of them were no exception to that tried and truism that stated every living creature appreciated being alive.  
Even if they didn't necessarily _like_ it.  
Which Jyn **did**. Sometimes.

Like she had when she'd transmitted those codes.

Weirdly enough, this whole mission she'd wanted no part in had been exactly what she'd needed to get her _feeling_ again. More than just worry over what new trials and travails the next sunrise might bring, or resentment towards her father over his years of exemplary service under the banner of the Empire, or a bone deep sense of loss over the fact that both he and her mother had been taken from her so early. And both on the same day.  
More than a bleak acceptance of hopelessness when her thoughts shifted to ones concerning the far-flung future and her place in it. For, the way she lived, there was only the next day, or maybe week; the next meal or perhaps the next checkpoint she needed to sneak through.

For Jyn, for **years** , there really _hadn't_ been much of a future.

That is, until this mission came along and bit her on the ass. And it really had. Even though they'd started it off by 'liberating' her from an Imperial prison transport and removing her shackles. Because that hadn't been the first enemy transport she'd hitched a ride on and it certainly wasn't about to be the first she'd failed to _un_ hitch a ride on.  
Cassian and K-2 had just gotten her off it **sooner**. And bruised her ribs. And put her name on the top of the Empire's Most Wanted list. Things that she'd neatly avoided for the majority of her life. And they'd accomplished _both_ in the blink of an eye.

Why was she worried about them again?

Right. For everything _after_ that little 'rescue' fiasco.  
Well, almost everything, anyway. The bit where Cassian had plotted to and nearly gone through with assassinating her father not making the list. Not by a long shot.

Otherwise though, she had a lot to thank the two for. Including for helping her find the purpose she'd been searching the galaxy for, in her own way, while she'd scratched out a living as free from the long reach of the Empire as possible.

Yep, the man who was staring her dead in the eye, right that second, was the first person in as long as Jyn could remember who'd been able to get her to do _anything_ she didn't strictly **want** -

"Cassian?!" She couldn't help blurting as she came back to herself. Hoping he was at least as out of it as she still must have been.

"Jyn," he said in greeting. Then, with a ponderous expression, "why aren't you tied to your bed?"

"Because _I_ didn't break anybody's nose," the rebel answered, trying to sound censuring but sure that the best she could muster was wry. Too relieved to once again see the captain conscious and **alive** for anything more serious.

"He shouldn't have gotten close enough for me to break it," the man with the sturdy restraints stated.

To which, Jyn just about rolled her eyes.  
"You've guessed it by now, right?" She asked, giving the medical facilities a sweeping wave of indication.

"That they're not with the Empire? Yeah, I kinda got that when they didn't throw me in a cell for... the nose thing," Cassian admitted with a sigh.

"If you apologize, I bet they'll take these off," Jyn suggested, leaning in to give the closest strap a poke.

"Yeah, well, you would have hit him too if he'd been waving that stupid light in _your_ eyes," Cassian insisted, testing that same strap as he griped.

"Mm, nope. _I_ think before I throw a punch," Jyn informed, supercilious grin beginning to curl her mouth.

"Uh-huh, yeah, right," the captain in the bed griped with a roll of his eyes. Obviously trying to keep down an amused expression of his own.  
"Anyway," he asked, voice going suddenly hushed and serious as he glanced side to side, "what do you think they're going to do with us?"

"Don't know. Guess we should ask," Jyn said. Pausing to wink at the guy strapped to his bed before taking in a breath and hollering, "Doctor!" A smile threatening to overtake her at the utterly disbelieving expression the action elicited from the hopelessly restrained captain.

"Hold yer horses!" Came the whimsical response, right before the sound of footsteps started up again.  
"Who's bleeding?" The doctor asked as he came around the corner, looking almost disappointed when he spotted the two _not_ blood spattered rebels.

"Cassian would very much like to apologize for his behavior," Jyn informed with a barely concealed snicker.

"Really now?" Asked the doc as he came to a stop near the bed.

"Oh yes," she insisted with a fervent nod. "He's absolutely _ashamed_ of what he did and completely overcome and **sick** with worry over the poor doctor whose nose he-"

"Alright, alright," Cassian cut in. Shooting Jyn this time an affronted look before offering the doc a rather serious, "I'm sorry for making an ass of myself. Now can you _please_ remove these things so I can get up?"

The note of impatience surely not doing Endor any favors, Jyn was slightly surprised when the grouchy doctor stepped forward and did as the previously uncooperative patient asked.

"Just don't go throwin' any more haymakers in my medbay and this won't become a regular thing," the guy in the blue shirt said while undoing the last of the restraints, a strong note of warning betraying his rather entertained face.

"Deal," assured the captain as he rearranged himself to a comfy sit. Taking a moment to survey the medical wing from his new vantage before looking back to the surly man who'd just set him free  
"You didn't happen to pick up any other members of my crew, did you?" Cassian asked, an undeniable glisten of hope clinging to his every word.

"Your crew, huh?" The doc asked with a skeptical raise of one eyebrow. "Yep, beamed up a whole passel from that planetoid. 'Bout a half minute before it blew itself to kingdom come," he affirmed as he moved away to take a leaning seat against a table across from the line of medical berthings.

As the man crossed his arms and leveled the rebels with a look hovering the line between amused and annoyed, Jyn did her best not to shudder at the reminder of how close she and Cassian had come to an extremely permanent expiration.

" _And_?" Prompted Cassian when the strange man did nothing more.

At the captain's display of impatience, the doc gave a smirk and went on. "Aside from picking up you two, we also got ourselves a little guy had burns across dern near most of his body, a big ol' busted up robot, and a couple of pain in the neck married menaces. Plus a few dozen foot soldiers I'm guessing _aren't_ yer buddies."

"They most certainly are not," Jyn said in a tone that seemed to catch the doctor's attention.  
Thankfully though, the man simply nodded before looking back to the captain sitting on the still faintly beeping bed.

"'Married menaces'?" Cassian asked, utterly bewildered.

"Yeah, the big fella with all the hair and the _really_ annoying guy in the robes," the doc said with an impatient roll of one hand.

"Baze and Chirrut? _Seriously_? But I thought Chirrut was a monk?" Cassian asked, surprising Jyn by glancing to her for answers she most certainly didn't have.

"Every society has their own fancy fangled rules and customs," the doctor offered, sounding like he was speaking from experience. "Probably a different sort of monk than you're used to," he added with a shrug.

"...Right," Cassian said with a second lost look settling Jyn's way.

"I suppose we'll have to ask them about it," she supplied with a shrug of her own. Then, tilting her head back toward the doctor, she addressed the next point of interest on the medic's list.  
"Did you say your lot also rescued a 'big old robot'?"

"Yep. Science department's workin' on it. Says it's so advanced, almost might as well be human," the doc informed with a chuckle. Followed by a slow shake of his head. "I'll believe _that_ when I see it."

"Wait, K-2 is onboard? And he's being repaired?" Cassian asked, eyes going wide with sudden, poorly restrained excitement.

"If that's the robot's name, then, yeah," the man in blue said with an unconcerned nod.

"It's K-2SO, so 'K-2' for short," Jyn confirmed, cocking her head when the elaboration seemed to confuse the doctor more than enlighten him.

"Come again?" He asked, head cocking in a way that practically mirrored Jyn's.

"He's a KX series Imperial security droid we stole and reprogrammed," Cassian said with a nod. "He's also my copilot. And my best friend," he added, tone taking on a decidedly 'got a problem with that' edge.

To which, the doc gave a shrug and an unimpressed tweak of his face.  
"I've heard weirder."

Then, even as Jyn watched Cassian's face lose its defensive set, the captain stood from his bed and took a quick step in their host's direction.  
"Where is he? I need to see him as soon as-"

"Don't worry," the physician cut in from his casual sit against the desk, "science'll page me soon as he's up and running again. That'll be your chance to meet the captain as well, seein' as he's almost as big an advanced cybernetics and mechanics buff as our head engineer. Mean time though," he said with an assessing glance between the two, "I expect you'll be wantin' to put a meal in yer bellies?"

The twin grumbles that sounded but a half beat later answered the question better than words could have and the rebels looked to each other, twin blushes well suppressed, before giving the physician a set of dignified nods.

"That's what I thought," the man said as he pushed off from his perch, following the quick straightening of his uniform shirt with a wave off toward one end of the long room. "After you."

 **I'm sorry. I have no excuses. Aside from Life(tm) and Other Projects(c) having gotten in the way. Six months is longer than anyone deserves to have to wait for an update.**  
 **Even so, I hope it was enjoyed by everyone who still believed a new chapter was coming! :D**

 **Next chapter will feature our favorite seven foot tall, fatalistic, sarcastic droid!**  
 **Hope to see y'all again! ❤️ Maybe even** ** _soon_** **this time! XD**


	10. Evacuation, Part Three

**K2's last moments before the planet destabilized completely weren't covered in the movie. At least, not if you ask this chapter.**

K-2 was honestly rather peeved that the blaster fire hadn't taken his entire head off in a glorious shower of sparks and lightning.

His death had been far less impressive than he'd hoped for and so, several minutes later, lying exactly where his chassis had dropped, he found himself disappointed with his anticlimactic end. Even as the depository rumbled disconcertingly in time to the sounds of far off, far more _exciting_ , explosions.

At least he'd helped Cassian and Jyn get through to the data vault. And, to their credit, they hadn't needed him to complete the mission after that.  
He knew. He could still hear Imperial updates from around the base as they came across the comm units in the trooper's helmets. The _dead_ trooper's helmets.

He'd killed enough of them that it was actually a bit of a racket. Echoing around in the hall and in the little command room where he'd made his dramatic last stand.  
Was too bad nobody'd seen it. Would have looked amazing. Especially if someone had had brains enough to go for the head shot.

Eh, what did it really matter? Even the security camera's datalogs wouldn't remember it soon enough. Seeing as the planet was about to get blown to smithereens. Along with every living thing on it.

Considering he probably wouldn't want to be there when the whole place winked out of existence, K-2 decided that a nice, cozy system shutdown would do him good. Much more good than listening to his crewmates getting themselves blown up over his barely functioning team-wide comms uplink was, anyway.

Pretty depressing, honestly. Hearing one after the other getting shot or fragged to death. Or even hallucinating dead family members while contending with what sounded like a perforated eardrum.  
Although, considering K-2 didn't care about Jyn **half** as much as he did Cassian, it was actually kind of funny. Her babbling on about soppy, lovey-dovey, extremely personal, _stupid_ things that he didn't care-

Oh. Just his luck. Right when it was getting good too, thought the droid as he felt his on-board comms receiver short. Every one of his Rogue One links dying at the same time. Which, against all expectations, did decidedly _not_ make him happy.

He'd thought it would be nice, not having to listen to Cassian's breathing go harsher and harsher even minutes after he and Jyn had escaped the bowels of the exact place K-2 was starting to get comfortable with calling his tomb. Neither human aware that that was the captain's body trying to compensate for a sudden and worsening decrease in h2o capacity curtesy one punctured lung.

Turned out that _not_ listening to the human's voice getting thinner and reedier as he sat out on the beach in the fresh air with his _new_ best friend... was somehow really bumming him out.

So K-2 began the sequence for a full systems shutdown and hoped nobody from his team made a fool of themselves praying for salvation. On the mantle of a planet about to be melted down for scrap.

On second thought, praying was fine. Just not making a fool of yourself while you did it.

Allowing himself a deep, drawn out, mental sigh, K-2 felt his processors begin to sputter and his code streams to thicken and slow. Soon to the point they reminded him of cooling tar.

So this was how he was going out. The same as the rest of his crew. Essentially.  
Circuits fried no doubt beyond repair, limbs utterly unresponsive, chest giving off smoke that must have _reeked_ of electrical fire, and left with only a few stubborn to stop core processors and his drab, insignificant thoughts.  
And the countless, lifeless bodies of the Empirial troops he'd mown down defending the data vault door. They were there too. Not that he actually cared. About them being there. Or that they were dead.

In fact, the only dead people he cared about were the ones he'd come here _helping_.  
And with that sudden, useless, sentimental thought, the droid grudgingly admitted to himself that it had in fact been nice. While it lasted. Having friends.

Was just too bad he hadn't turned himself off while he could still hear their horrifying, tragic death rattles.  
Instead, perched upon the very precipice of his own less than spectacular death, for the first time in his admittedly rather short life, the droid felt well and truly... alone.

It was with that strangely _un_ settling thought that K-2 finally slipped into what was promising to be his last and final shutdown. Hoping vaguely that that sudden and blinding white brightness was just the flesh sizzling fallout from a **very** large explosion. At least then he'd go out with a nice, well deserved bang.

 **Poor droid! I hope I captured K-2's scathing sarcasm alright! And that y'all enjoy watching him die yet again!**  
 **Also: Looks like the next chapter will feature Bodhi Rook! The lovable pilot's finally making an appearance! Woohoo!**


	11. The Pilot

**The trials and travails of our intrepid pilot in the hours, or perhaps days leading up to the Rogue One crew's rescue from a dying planet.**

 **I'm shocked it took until now for a Bodhi chapter. Bodhi is awesome and deserves more! But with such a large ensemble, I suppose everyone has to wait their turn.**

It was just another flight. He kept telling himself that. Over and over again, like a mantra.

It was just another flight; just another intelligence run. Just like the countless he'd been ordered to run over the past... he couldn't remember how many years.  
Only this one? This one he _hadn't_ been ordered to. And that was most of what had him so worried. The rest of his worries had materialized behind him some while back, almost immediately after he'd entered Jedha's airspace, in the form of two small desert hover pods. Both trained on him, matching every move he made, like shadows on a wall.

Worse still was the fact that he'd made his approach from far enough away from the city and low enough so as not to be picked up on Imperial scanners. He was even pretty sure he'd been too low for old fashioned radar. So how he'd picked up a pair of tails was a mystery he wasn't looking forward to unraveling. But, nearing his destination, he was pretty sure that he was going to be forced to rather sooner than his far preferred 'never'.

He landed his plane and watched as the pod came to a stop directly across from him, on the other end of the predetermined meeting spot.

"Well, that answers that," he mumbled to himself as the top popped open to reveal the two humanoids within, dressed appropriately for the desert's brutal conditions.

"You are the pilot? The pilot with the message for Saw Gerrera?" The unnaturally tall one rasped as the two climbed out of the cockpit, expressions sharp, suspicious, and unforgiving as they walked closer.

"Uh, yes- that is: Yes. I am the pilot. With the message. From Galen Erso. For Saw Gerrera," he affirmed as he hopped from his chair and met them halfway.

"How did you find this place?" Asked the shorter, eyes narrowing more the longer the introductions stretched.

"I was given coordinates a-and clear instructions. By Erso," he tacked on when the disbelief didn't dissipate from his inquisitors faces.

"We'll see about that," said the taller as he shot a glance somewhere just over the pilot's shoulder.

At the same time, there came a rustle from close behind but before he could turn to see what had caused the disturbance, a sack was pulled down around his head, turning the world dark.  
Before he could reach up and fight the musty thing off, a pair of three fingered hands caught his and wound a length of rope deftly and securely around his wrists. Leaving slack enough only for the barest of wiggles.

He'd forgotten about the second pod. And now he was paying the price. Being marched through the sand and stone of an endless desert, bound and blindfolded and at the mercies of mercenaries and wanted criminals.

Mercenaries and criminals that it turned out, didn't care that he'd risked life and limb to bring them this message. Who in fact had absolutely no intention of treating him with a shred of decency nor hospitality.  
Thugs who kept guests in comfortless, barren cages.

He was trapped. It seemed that that dark, cold cave would be the last place he ever called home. With nothing but rough, mannerless inmates and disease infested rodents for company.

Somehow though, against all odds and even his wildest dreams, fate had other plans and he soon found his hopelessness proven wrong.  
Instead, with the help of a ragtag collection of misfits and rebels, he'd escaped Saw Gerrera's brutish clutches, escaped the crushing force of a dying planet, and gotten free and clear for what might have been the first time in his life.

Once escaped from that horrible prison, riding along on a ship that didn't bear the Imperial standard, it finally set in that he was no longer under the employ of the Empire. No longer beholden to a regime who'd done nothing for him but push him farther and farther down a path that led only to a pair of hands soaked in blood and a soul stained with the darkest type of evil.

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly free.

That is, until his ride touched down on the surface of the Rebel Alliance's base. The moment his boots scuffed that new planet's crust, he'd known he'd just traded old and cruel masters for a new and more desperate set.  
He was forced to make peace with it there and then. Because for one with his specific set of skills and knowledge, there could be no true freedom. Not in a galaxy as war-torn and untrusting as this one.

Not in a galaxy where one could be forced to witness the destruction of _two_ planets in as many days. Where one would be thrown from one near death experience to the next simply for trying to do the right thing. Trying to stand up against a galactic alliance gone mad with power and angry with the disquiet its own tyranny had inspired.

But it was worth it. Worth it because it was all _finally_ paying off. It was **working**.  
He could hear it over the air raid speakers and in the harried shouts of Imperial troopers outside his ship's open loading hatch.

They were winning.

They were winning and the proof lay in the fact that they'd somehow scared the Empire badly enough that it had ordered its own information depository destroyed. This place that was a wealth of one of a kind knowledge; of secrets and scandals and proof of foul, duplicitous coups and schemes... was about to go the same way Jedha had. And everyone on the surface was going with it.

Only, he was going first. On account of that grenade someone had just tossed in the open hatch.

Instinct had him diving for the blast shield of his cockpit, _knowing_ that that wasn't going to do any good because the grenade was going off **inside** his ship. Not a dozen feet behind him.

The force of the explosion sent him straight into the pilot's console, hard enough that he was certain that impossibly loud crack hadn't been the reinforced flight casing.

Then, before he'd even hit the floor, sliding down the lever peppered surface in an uncoordinated heap, he'd begun to feel the heat.  
It was all around him; licking up his back and tickling the back of his head as it gnawed at his flight suit; as it chewed at his gloves, trying to get to the sensitive digits within; as it tried to sink its teeth into his legs.

It was when that strange, all encompassing warmth finally made its way through his practically space proof outer layer that he at long last realized the truth of his predicament:  
He was on fire.

And then he realized he couldn't breathe. That the wind had been knocked from him when he'd hit the flight panel. That his chest was seized, muscles and bones cramped so tight that there wasn't a hope or a prayer of him refilling his screaming lungs.

That —the instinctual fear of not being able to _breathe_ — was the last nudge- the last **shove** his addled and abused hindbrain needed to send him into a full blown panic.

A panic suddenly interrupted by a flash of brilliant white light. A panic which redoubled as the light faded to reveal he was no longer in the destroyed cockpit of his ship. He was someplace entirely different. Someplace dark and dank.  
A place he'd been before.

A place where _things_ of worrying size and incomprehensible shape squirmed just out of sight. Where a beast lurked, rumbling and threatening as it loomed closer and closer; tentacles raised and coming straight for him. Suckers sticking fast and hard to those soft spots at the center of his temples, leaving red, angry marks as they shuffled and reshuffled thoughts and memories like a gambler cutting a deck of cards. Shifting through an entire lifetime worth of information, trying to extrude from the shambling mess it was making but one simple truth.

"Yes, I am the pilot."

He'd said that, hadn't he? It had become his new mantra. Because it was the one thing he'd been able to catch hold of in the maelstrom of his buzzing mind. The one card that monster hadn't gotten its greedy, slimy feelers on. Tucked too far up his sleeve. His ace in the hole.

"I'm the pilot." He felt himself mumble, _certain_ to his core that it was true. Even when everything else was seething and swirling, poised to swallow him up and smother him.

"-...are you alright?" Came an unexpected question, echoing in as if from somewhere distant. Somewhere far, _far_ removed from his inhospitable bear trap of a prison.

"He's gone too far down the rabbit hole: I'm pulling rank." Informed a new voice. Angry and insistent.

"No, the-the strain on his mind! You cannae break the connection!" Another voice, frightened and quick, argued.

"Watch me!"

A hand closed around his arm- around his wrist, yanking hard enough to pull his hand from where it'd been stuck firm. Hard enough to spin him completely around. Forcing him to open his eyes and confront the owners of the three voices, all looking at him with their all too human faces. Faces that, in some distant, uncomfortable way, he felt he should know.

"Alright, ya self-righteous lawn ornament, tell me you're 'functioning nominally'," demanded the human attached to the sturdy hand only then unclamping its hold from around his wrist.

"I'm the pilot." The only truth he had to share.

"What the devil are you goin' on about? You know darn well you're not the-"

"I'm the pilot." The only card left in his deck.

"Uh, Cap'n, I'm afraid Mr. Spock may have bitten off more than he can chew with this one," the third voice said, almost tremulous with concern.

"Spock, what're you trying to say?" The one in gold and black prompted. Well formed facial features pulling down when the response was yet another iteration of his new mantra:

"I'm the pilot."

"Damn it, Spock, you're starting to freak me out. And this is _you_ we're talking about," he watched the blue clad one scold as the angry human began running a small machine in the air between them.

The human dressed in gold though caught his attention with a determined step forward.  
"Spock, wherever you are- wherever that mind meld took you, it's not real. Just concentrate on my voice, and get back out here. That's an _order_."

There was something strikingly familiar about that speech pattern. A cadence he had heard countless times. This time failing to imbue itself with the authority it so often carried so effortlessly.

"Spock, I'm not kidding, you better get your Vulcan ass back out here before- Aw hell-" The one in gold bit off, stepping even closer. "Here goes nothing."

He felt his body flinch, for the pressure at the sides of his head was back. But this time was different from the last. This time there were no suckers. Instead, warm, insistent, human fingers pressed their pads to not the center of his temples, but towards those sensitive psi points whose location, to all but one species, were not common knowledge.

"C'mon, Spock, it's me, Kirk. Jim. You know me," insisted the human, but a foot from his face. Readjusting the finger's positions with a noise of frustration when there was no-

And suddenly he could think again. The darkness of that cold, barren prison receding to the far flung edges of his mind as images, _memories_ , and **emotions** flooded in to fill the void.

A school full of young humans in a familiar gray uniform, scrambling to take up positions on ships ready to make an unprecedented jump through space.  
A planet whose death had crushed more than just his home as it disappeared into the depths of a black, gaping maw.  
A race against time to save another planet's unjustifiable end.  
His friend dying, alone and unreachable behind radiation proof glass.

His knees threatened to buckle as that same face, the face of his _friend_ , healthy and lacking any trace of death, came into focus. Right in front of his.  
"Jim?" His voice sounded strained.

"That's me," assured the man breaking into a warm, _relieved_ smile. "Now, how 'bout you?" The captain asked, hands falling to his sides as he took a respectful step back.

"I'm the... I'm the first officer of the Starship Enterprise; head of science division; member of the endangered Vulcan species; son of Sarek and... Amanda. And I require privacy," he- _Spock_ informed as he regained the feeling in his legs and attempted to sidestep the two **close** impediments to his retreat.

"Oh no you don't," McCoy insisted as he grabbed ahold of Spock's closer arm. "You nearly gave yourself a darn lobotomy! I'm escorting you to the nearest biobed. _Directly_."

Breathing in through his nose in an attempt to stave off the rush of anger he could feel swarming up his arm from the other side of the inconsiderate contact, Spock leveled the doctor with his most serious micro expression and began anew.  
"I require _privacy_ , Doctor. Now remove your hand from my person."

" _I'm_ the physician around here and I say you need a full evaluation, stat," McCoy insisted. Doing nothing to loosen his grip around the Vulcan's arm.

"I am not damaged in any way that your medical technology could help. My mental defenses though require urgent maintenance, so if you would: _remove_ your hand from my person." The slight growl accompanying the latter words seeming to go wholly unnoticed by the physician, who, if anything, did the both of them the disservice of gripping tighter.

"Listen here you green blooded menace, _I'm_ chief medical officer on this ship and **everyone** , including our pigheaded captain, is required by Starfleet regulation to defer to _my_ authority on matters of health," the doctor paraphrased, growing more incensed as he spoke. Unwittingly forcing more and more of his disquiet through where he refused to remove his hand from-

"Hey, hey, hey, Bones- _Bones_ ," the captain called, breaking the doctor from his challenging stare with a hand to the man's arm. The arm now connecting _two_ officers to a Vulcan whose mind was not currently prepared to protect itself from the added intensity of Jim's... concern?  
Fascinating.

As McCoy's affronted rankle quelled some at the touch, so too did Spock's own agitation. An unexpected development indeed.

"C'mon, Bones, _look_ at him," Jim insisted with a nod of indication. "He's shook up; not dying. Give the guy a few minutes and _then_ insist on running every test in the known universe on him."

After an extended pause, the doctor glaring at his captain and his first officer in turn, the man removed his hand from Spock's bicep and took a step back.  
"I expect to see you in medical, soon as you've got your Vulcan mind back in order," he informed with an affected straightening of his uniform shirt.

"There, was that so hard? Spock's gonna meditate, he's gonna be fine, and then we're all gonna have ourselves a big laugh. Right, Spock?"

"Vulcans do not laugh, Captain," the first officer managed, a nod of thanks the last thing he offered as he moved to remove himself from the room. Quite nearly walking straight into a Scott who he hadn't noticed had been watching the taught exchange.

"Feel better!" The engineer called as the medical ward's doors opened for a Spock who didn't have the mental energy to acknowledge the well wish.  
Too busy keeping those writhing, slinking, seething shadows at bay.

 **Thanks to everyone for being so patient again for the long hiatus! I swear I'm not doing it on purpose!**  
 **Thanks for reading and I hope everyone had a chance to watch the new Star Wars movie! It was one wild ride!**


End file.
